The First Game
by Triton101
Summary: The Rebellion has failed and the First Hunger Games is about to begin. 24 tributes are selected to kill each other and only one can survive. With everyone somewhat skilled with weapons due to fighting in the rebellion and tricks from the Gamemakers themselves, this hunger will be the most vicious of anyother Hunger Games to follow. Join us to see who wins this fight to the death!


The First Game

Chapter One: The Reapings

Point of view: Piper Bailstrom

A paper is drawn from the crystal ball. I'm standing still for a moment and I can't hear a thing. The wind stops and my curly hair rests on my shoulders. My eyes are out of focus. From the podium, a woman announces my name. _Piper Bailstrom_. I'm still standing there. I don't notice the people looking for me to walk forward. Everyone is looking their best tonight with their expensive clothing. Of course, District 4 isn't the wealthiest district, but it is number three financially after Districts 1 and 2.

"Piper Bailstrom," says the lady at the podium, a little louder this time. My ears are still not picking up any sound. Whenever I'm not active, it seems as though my body shuts down and doesn't pay attention to its surroundings. The people in front of me are blurs. I'm not wearing my glasses today and with me not paying attention, my vision is even worse. I'm thinking about my family, trying to get the ones injured to safety while the rebels from our district fought the forces of the Capitol. I remember the explosion that took them out. The Capitol unleashing all of its fire power. Leaving us without food and making us fish for days.

A bug bites me and I awake from my slumber and smack it.

"Piper Bailstrom will you please step forward. There is no reason to be afraid," says the woman while searching for me in the crowd.

I suddenly have an electric jolt go through my heart making it race. My _name _has been drawn. I have been chosen. I am so excited that I start darting to the stage.

"Here I am!" I say with glee. The people of district four notice my rather casual style of dressing and give me a subtle round of applause. I take position the right side of the stage a wait for the woman to announce the male contestant. I'm shaking in my shoes pretty badly, but I'm excited. _Me _announced to be a tribute in the Hunger Games. Although, I must admit, I have no idea what the Hunger Games is. No one does. Word is the Game Makers are still deciding what the competition should be. The people in the districts aren't too crazy about the whole subject, but the Capitol citizens are raving about which district will win.

The woman pulls out another slip of paper from the crystal ball. "George Robertson." The boy has nothing crazy going for him. He's not good looking or attractive in any manner. I just kept smiling at the crowd. As George steps forward the crowd gives another mediocre round of applause. The woman says a few more tedious lines before we leave for the train station. I wait for my family to show up to say their goodbyes. But there is one problem: they are dead. I begin crying and swearing. The Capitol took everything from me. I am going to get back at them. They will pay for what they did. Whatever the Hunger Games are, I already know I'll have to break a few rules. The only rule for me is survival.

Point of View: Shimmer Adorno

"Lola Buzzsaw,"

Ugh, that twelve-year-old brat. Taking my spot in the Hunger Games. How dare she!? I'm supposed to be a tribute! It doesn't matter, my parents told me if I wasn't chosen I was allowed to volunteer for someone. Besides, She was only twelve. There were kids that would be eighteen there. She would be traumatized and our districts would look like fools.

"No!" I shout. Everyone in the district turns and looks at me. I am wearing in a silver dress and elegant high heels. I look around hoping they were looking at that along with my pretty face. I skip to the stage and say "I'm volunteering for her. She's just too young. There's eighteen-year-olds in this competition. I just don't think she's ready."

"Wow, we have a brave one hear. Don't we?" says the woman. Brave? What was there to be brave about? The applause came and some people whistled. Were they whistling for me or _at _me? Ugh, why bother to worry about it. I'm a tribute. A tribute for what though? No one from the Capitol has said anything about the Games. I'm worried. Maybe there are certain games I'm not so good in. I hope whoever's on my team is a good cooperator. I can always get him to do my dirty work. Men always do. I'm just simply too irresistible. I walk on stage and waive at my family. They waive back and smile Lola's parents seem furious that I took their daughter's spot. No matter. I'm the star now. I can't wait until this goes on television. All of Panem will see my face. _My _brunette hair. My hazel eyes. And once I win, I'll be rich! It's not like I need the money. Then, again, of course I do. I _always _need money for my fabulous clothes and shoes.

"Noah Collins!" the announcer says. I feel as though I'm being pulled out of my thoughts and back into the real world staring at an ocean of people. The entire district parts making an isle for the . . . Oh, my God he's so handsome. How come I've never seen this? He _does _go to my school, right? I've never seen him in the halls. I'm almost sorry I'm going to have to bribe him into doing my work for me. Almost.

The boy takes his position on the opposite side of the stage. I can't stop staring at him. It's almost the way I hope someone stares at me. The way I _know _people stare at me. I want him to turn his head. So, I could see his face . . . so he could see _me_. He's quite muscular. The lady talks on and on, babbling about how great this is for district one. I'm looking forward to this guy. He's going to make an excellent partner. Both for the games and for . . . other necessities.

We get ready to board the train. My family tells me they love me. I'm going to miss being pampered by them all the time. But then again, I going to get this hell of a boy that I have in front of me. He introduces himself, we start making small talk and he walks off.

"Oh, and my name's Shimmer!" I shout out. _Don't forget that. _

Point of view: Trent Bonaparte

I watch as one of the girl's from my district walk up to the stage. She fakes a smile and waves. No one in my district is excited about this Hunger Games. Especially me.

My father was a rebel. He was sent on various missions to capture and infiltrate the Capitol's strong holds. Dad must have been too popular though, because he went missing in action right be before the rebellion failed. As for me I know my place in District 5. I have gained a certain amount of respect here since I'm one of the strong teens here. The girls also dig me. I don't boast about it often, but it's good to know you're still important, even if your family name has been ruined by the capital.

Katie Holmes, the female tribute takes her place on the stage. She's not very popular at school, but she tries to make it to "the big leagues" anyway. I try to help her, but she's made her self quite an outcast to the other women. Mostly, because she's a nerd in science. However, this is quite necessary in District 5 since we're the power district. We are in charge of maintaining power through the entire country of Panem. However, District 12 is sometimes out of power due to the fact that there is not enough electronic equipment being imported from District 3.

The reaping continued.

When the announcer drew the paper from the ball, I knew it was me. I put my names in that ball God knows how many times in order to be eligible for tesserae.

"Trent Bonaparte!" she says putting a lot of enthusiasm into my name.

_Shit,_ I thought.

I speed walk forward to the stage. Some of the fan girls let out minor whoops and shouts, but I don't pay any attention. The crowd gives a careless applause. My mother. I didn't even look back at her when I left her side. I felt ashamed. I couldn't show it. The truth is I pretend to be unbeatable, but I'm actually the fragile one. Hopefully, if I can put on a great guise during the Games, it'll be enough for me to win. I'm physically stronger than most people there. Then again, I'm only sixteen, there will be eighteen year olds there. District 2 will be very hard to overcome. The work they make the children do over there with construction must be unbearable. But of course, someone has to make all those impressive structures and buildings for the Capitol.

After the announcer stops rambling on about lucky we all are to have Katie and I have Districts 5's tributes, it's time to leave. I say goodbye to my mother. She doesn't say anything. She went mute after my father went missing.

"Mother," I say. "I will make you proud. I can win this. I will restore our family name." She nods, but I don't think she believes what I'm saying. The peace keepers take her away and she's gone. _Goodbye, Mom_.

Point of view: Juliette Hawthorne

So I've been chosen. Chosen for what exactly? I have no idea. Since the failure of the rebellion, my entire district has been struggling financially. We barely have enough money for food and my brothers feet are always bloody, because we can't even afford to buy a pair of shoes. The idea of leaving my entire family now, especially during these times, is breaking my heart. I heard whoever wins the Games becomes filthy rich. This district could really use it. I'm always one for sharing. Communism? It's better than this hell-hole we have now.

"Larry Odinson," says the lady at the podium. A gun shot follows. Everyone starts panicking. "Peacekeepers" fire their guns and yell "quiet down." The people start making an opening for the peacekeepers. The shot had come from the area where my family was. Thank God they weren't hurt. The peacekeepers find a dead boy who committed suicide. The parents have no idea that the boy had a gun. The peacekeepers subsequently shoot both of the parents and in less than a minute the entire Odinson family is dead.

I'm horrified. I want to scream, but I'm paralyzed in my position on stage. The lady draws another name from the crystal ball, like nothing had happened. "Carl Bicker."

I listen to see if he would commit suicide too. But he steps onto the stage, afraid of what will happen to his family. He's only thirteen, and he went to the mines early just like his father. It's a shame what this country has become. I wonder what it was before when it was North America. When studying the history of Panem, they said it came from the ruins of North America. What had happened? Was North America as bad as Panem today? Did it used to be a barren waste land like District 13 today? Who knows? The government these days, I'm telling you.

The lady starts wrapping up her speech about how we, the tributes, can restore District 12 to what it used to be. I believed none of it, although I wanted to.

Before any of us know it, it's time to say our goodbye's. My mother is in tears at the station. My father is trying to console her, but nothing seems to be working. I stare at my brother and his pair of bleeding feet. I look at his blisters. He likes to pop them, but more blood comes out of them and another blister forms. I work closely with my friends the Everdeens to heel his feet as well as the others who are still wounded from the rebellion. It's quite tragic. But no more.

"Hey," I say. "If I win, I'll buy you some shoes. That way you don't have to worry about your feet any more." He breaks a smile and he mutters "I hope you win, sis." The peacekeepers come and take them away as the Everdeens come to say their goodbyes to me. I stare at my little brother with his dark brown hair and equally dirty feet. That's why I'm going to win. I'm going to bring a new pair of shoes home to my brother.

Point of view: Sam Dijon

Sam. That's my name . . . or at least that's what the major of District 3 named me. He says my parents were worthless rebels that left me at his stoop chasing some stupid dream. I don't really talk much . . . and I just hope I have a friend when I get to the Capitol. Someone I can trust. And the girl on stage is so full of herself I doubt she'll pay any attention to me. I have no one in my life. Not a single friend. No one cares about me. Not even the mayor. Am I rich? My family is. Me? No. The mayor lets me starve and doesn't even bother giving me any money for school lunch. Not that I need it anyway. It looks disgusting . . . and I'm not that hungry anyway.

A name is drawn from the crystal ball that's not mine. I walk up and volunteer to take the eighteen-year-old's place. The mayor makes me volunteer. He's always making me to join some dangerous project. I guess he thinks that one day I won't come back. Maybe if I win this, I won't have to.

"Well, Mister Mayor, you sure do have a brave son, don't you?" asks the woman at the podium.

"I sure do. That's my boy," he says.

Ever since I was eleven, I have been practicing for this event. The mayor made me. He knew before hand that if the Capitol won, they would make us pay. When he found out about my equation, he made me train. Each day, I kept hoping that I would never be ready so he would never make me volunteer. And now I'm here. Will I win? Who knows? What am I supposed to win? Only the corrupt mines of the Game Makers know that. What will I gain, if I win? Money? Fame? I don't care. I just want to get out of this mess. I want to see my parents. Maybe they'll see on the Hunger Games and ask for me to come live with them.

After a very monotonous speech, I'm taken to the train station to say goodbye to my friends and family. I have none of those. Not even the mayor himself would come to visit himself. However, I am handed a letter from a peacekeeper. On the envelope, it says "to my boy." I put the letter in my pocket to read later. I'm not in the mood to read anything from the mayor.

I take out my note pad and a pencil that I snuck in with me. I flipped through the equation of the war. The rebels were doomed from the start. They never had the right variable to win the revolution. I keep flipping through my miscellaneous equation before I finally get to some blank pages. I still haven't quite figured out the equation for who will win the

Hunger Games. I have twenty-four variables to deal with. The equation itself is not even ready.

I board the train and it thrusts out of the station. The other tribute sits next to me bitting at her nails. I want to say something to her. But all I can do is stare at the incomplete equation that sits in front of me.

Point of View: Raven McLean

I say goodbye to my father and my grandmother and I board the train. I'm only twelve and I'm a bit unsure of leaving my father and grandmother by themselves in District 11. The peacekeepers have had an eye out for my dad. He was in the rebellion, but he stopped fighting during the middle of the rebellion. The Capitol took away my mother and my siblings. My dad was afraid that if kept fighting, they would take away me or Grandma next. But I know my dad. He'll get our family back. I know it.

The boy next to me is seventeen. He's an aggressive fist fighter. I'm sure he'll need it. Maybe not. I don't even know what the Hunger Games is. I ask the boy next to me about it and he said he doesn't care. He just wants to win whatever _it _is.

The Capitol lady that announced our names invites us for lunch. I stomach growls at the site of the feast before me. Stacks of meat loaf taunt my tongue. Various corns on the cobs in all different colors make my saliva drip faster into my mouth. I have to constantly swallow to keep myself from drooling. The tantalizing mountain of mashed potatoes with meat gravity fills the room with a delicious odor. I suddenly forget all the wrong the Capitol has done. The kidnaping of my family and the murder of innocent civilians during the rebellion. My stomach becomes my brain as my brain become a fried mushroom.

I instinctively dive for the food in front of me and stuff my face. In District 11, we grow a lot of food, but most of it's for the Capitol. So in reality, I'm eating all the food I should have been eating for twelve years. The woman from the Capitol looks at us like we're bloody thirsty monstrous savages. _They're_ the monsters.

"The food's beyond comparison, I know," she says flatly.

"Girl," I say. "Just don't. We don't need any of your insipid comments."

The boy keeps eating. I call him a boy even though he's seventeen. What am I supposed to call him a man? I don't know, but he's not paying attention to anything except the food on his plate. Something tells me he's not easily distracted. Silly me on the other hand, who hasn't even bothered to learn the kid's name, is furious over someone trying to be nice. No, she's not nice. She's one of _them_. A despicable, lying brat who was raised thinking she is a goddess.

"I'm sorry to break it to you honey," she says "but that wasn't very nice."

"I'm sorry to break it to you too, you tattooed freak, but it wasn't very nice when the Capitol took my family away from me. Anything else you want to add you miserable lowlife?" I snap.

The lady rushes out of the room clearly offended. My partner keeps eating. _That lady can go to hell, _I think. I smile to myself and eat some more. The Capitol is evil. I want to win.

Point of view: Kujo Wolver

I was raised by wolves in the woods of District 7. Some lumberjacks found me and decided I needed to be more . . . "civilized." They called me Kujo and put me to work chopping down trees when I was twelve. I've been stuck here ever since. I know I am meant for something more. That's why I am excited about this "Hunger Games" thing. And I know exactly how to win too. Hunger Games! HUNGER Games! Hunger GAMES!

I dive into the food in front of me with my hand, ignoring my utensils. So many flavors and tastes of unexplored words! The mystery of cooked food! It almost makes me never want to eat another piece of raw meat again. But that won't happen. HAHA!

_Whatever this thing is,_ I think. _The other players won't know what hit them. HAHAHAHAHAHA!_

I notice everyone is staring at me. My fellow tribute stares at me awkwardly. I make a creepy face and yell "BOO!" The girl screams and falls back in her chair. Puny human. The annoying supervisor is about to say something to me, until I turn my head toward her. She quickly exits.

My "companion" gets up slowly and tries to finish her meal without staring at me. I'm irresistible, I know.

Before I know it, we're passing through the rocky mountains into the Capitol. I must admit it does need some trees. But other than that it was very impressive. Those people from District 2 do know how to make buildings. There's still food on my mouth that I wipe off on the window of the train. I can't get over the feeling that my name was drawn from that ball. _Will my real parents see me? Who cares? I don't. Why am I asking if I don't care? Because I'm crazy! HAHAHA! _That big applause I got when my name was drawn from the ball. _Was it for me leaving or for me being a tribute? Again, who cares. HAHA!_

I look back to my days as a wolf. My first kill.My mother was so proud. The pack praised me. I will feel that joy again. All of District 7 may doubt me just like my fellow wolves did. But now they will see what I can _really _do. Someone is about to enter the room. I can smell her a mile away. My fellow tribute enters. I don't care what her name is. She sits next to me.

"You're a very strange guy, Kujo," she says.

"BOO!" I scream

"Is that the only thing you can say?" she says without collapsing on the ground this time.

"Look, if you're searching for a teammate." I say. "You got the wrong wolf."

"I thought wolves like working in packs?"

I let that sink in. I take a deep breath.

"Not with you."

With that, she walks away and never speaks to me again.

Point of view: Mae La'aserrath

The Hunger Games. What is it? Another trick from the Capitol? Why put on this facade of a game? Why don't they just kill us all? Then again, maybe it _is _just a game. Hunger. Will we starve? But . . . it's games. An ancient ruins perhaps? Rome, I think. I like sculpting in the Roman style. Anyway, my name is Mae, and I _will _bring pride to District 2. We've always been second best. No longer.

The train pulls into the station. My companion, Tim Gordon, steps off with me. He's muscular and can lift pretty much anything. I know my limits. I've always been more into sculpting and designing models for buildings than constructing them. Tim's been helping build his father with a few projects back at home, thus his strength. I'm doubting anyone can take him in a fight. I just hope that these games don't involve fighting. I have _enough_ blood on my hands.

A couple of peacekeepers escort us to our dorms. If one thought the buildings were magnificent on the outside, the buildings were much more impressive on the inside. It was good to see that all of District 2 work doesn't go to waste. I take in the sturdy walls decorated with what seems to be like heaven. Clouds of white and a peaceful society where people could do what they pleased. If only that were true. The floor is decorated with maroon tiles and dark grout. Inside my room, there is a queen-sized bed, a full bathroom with a toilet, sink and shower. I take a shower and I have no idea what to do. I'm pouring chemicals all over my body. I don't know whether I'm receiving shampoo, conditioner or soap . . . or water for that matter. I eventually fine my eyes burning from some of the chemicals that got into my eyes from trying to read what buttons I am pressing.

I decide to dress myself. I didn't eat anything on the train for fear that they might poison me. The stupidity of the idea hit me. Why would they poison me if they need me for the Hunger Games? I order some food from room service and a table of food appeared in front of me in five seconds. There is cooked chicken topped of with curry, rice with curry, chivied potatoes and a bowl of peas. What more could a lady want?

After I eating, I am so full that I crash on the bed. I could live here forever. It would be like the Land of the Lotus Eaters because the food here sure makes me want to stay.

_Thank God for District 11 and their food_. I think

The bed is so comfortable I don't even dream. I don't know how long I sleep for but when I wake up I hear a bang. I launch out of the bed and yell "Who's there?"

Silence. I must have been the wind

_What's that sound? _I think, but I just go back over to the cozy bed. My mind wanders off into unknown worlds. I wish I could sculpt me with my parents but I don't have the equipment. This though brings me back to reality. _Oh, all right. Let the Games begin._


End file.
